


The Dark Puddles

by phantomthief_fee



Series: BATIM Drabbles [11]
Category: Bendy and the Ink Machine
Genre: Originally Posted on Tumblr
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-12
Updated: 2017-12-12
Packaged: 2019-02-14 00:53:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 980
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12996282
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/phantomthief_fee/pseuds/phantomthief_fee
Summary: What it's like in those Dark Puddles, and the first days of the projectionist and the prophet.





	The Dark Puddles

There was only darkness in That Place. Darkness, voices, and memories. If you were there, it was hard to remember who you were. All the memories blended together, the faces blurred and the names unintelligible. They all knew they were someone, but who exactly? Which memories were theirs? Some of them managed to piece themselves together enough to rise out of That Place, but you never really left. Once you were there, you were there forever. The voices never stopped. They clawed at the psyche of those who escaped, desperate to have the kind of cohesion the escapees possessed. Even when Sammy had dragged himself free, the voices persisted, making him doubt what he knew. 

The only thing they were certain of was that the Ink Demon was king. He knew who he was. He had control over them. The power to unmake them if the need arose. He was their leader. Perhaps that was why Sammy thought Bendy could save him.

.

.

The first thing the being known as the Projectionist knew was pain. He awoke strapped to a metal table, screaming at the top of his lungs. Everything hurt. Everything felt wrong. There were two men beside him, one with his hands over his ears. It occurred to the Projectionist that the air was full of a strange staticky screeching sound. And that sound was coming from him. Right. He was screaming. The smaller man, the one with his hands over his ears, motioned to the other man, who picked the Projectionist up and slung him over his shoulder. The Projectionist didn’t fight the man. What good would that do? The Projectionist wouldn’t have known what to do, even if he had gotten free. The man took the Projectionist down in an elevator and dumped him in a sea of ink. The Projectionist got to his feet, looking around. A cartoon was playing on the wall. The Projectionist drew closer to the wall, only to realize the cartoon was coming from him. He was projecting it. His hands flew to his head. There was a projector on his shoulders. That was...wrong, wasn’t it? He wasn’t supposed to have a projector there. He looked down at the ink pooling around his legs. The thing staring back at him was unfamiliar, a monstrosity with a projector for a head and wires all over its body. That wasn’t what he was supposed to look like, he knew that much. But what was he supposed to be? He turned his gaze away from the ink. There was a labyrinth laid out before him. He lumbered into the corridors, the whirr of the projectors taking away any stray thoughts. All he had to do was walk. He continued doing that for years. Until someone with a tommy gun showed up to end his torment. 

.

.

He woke up in darkness, among a dozen other screaming voices. Where was he? Who was he? Any attempt to piece together his thoughts was thwarted by the voices. They stole any scraps of clarity he had, scrambling for the few memories that surfaced. They wanted identity. He wanted to be discouraged, wanted to give up and just slip into oblivion, but somehow he couldn’t. He didn’t give up, he knew that much. He fought for every scrap of memory and identity he could get until he finally remembered who he was. His name was Sammy Lawrence. That alone was enough to separate him from the rest. The other voices in the void screamed and clawed at him as he pulled himself from the ink. He emerged from a puddle in the music department, gasping for air with nonexistent lungs. He looked around, trying to recognize his surroundings. Yes, he knew this place. This was the music department. 

“I know this place.” He said to himself. He surprised even himself with the sound of his voice. His memories were still hazy, still tainted by the void and the voices. He looked down at himself and suddenly felt ashamed. He was naked, he realized. This wouldn’t do. Some searching yielded a faded pair of overalls. Sammy couldn’t remember if he’d worn finer things, but beggars couldn’t be choosers. He put them on all the same and continued his searching. He found his office after a bit. 

“Sammy Lawrence, Music Director.” He read the sign. Yes, that sounded right. 

“My name is Sammy Lawrence. I’m the music director.” He said to reassure himself. Memories were slowly beginning to come back. He remembered working in his office. He remembered a janitor. Something Franks. As Sammy fussed with some of the things on his desk, he felt a tug. It wasn’t a physical tug, but rather something almost...spiritual. As though something was pulling on his soul. He turned and beheld the face of his saviour. A demon stood before the window looking into Sammy’s office. It was taller than Sammy himself currently was, the only distinguishable feature on its face a giant, unsettling grin. Sammy couldn’t explain it, but he knew this thing would save him. 

“My...My God.” He stammered out. If he’d had eyes, they would have been wide. The demon cocked its head to the side. Then it turned and walked away. 

“Wait! Come back!” Sammy stumbled out of his office and after the demon. “I want to serve you!” He had to serve this thing. Had to stay on its good side. It had power, he knew it did. It could save him. By the time he reached the end of the hallway, the demon was gone. Sammy looked around for a few minutes before finding a cutout of the demon, albeit in a more cartoony form. Using an axe he’d found, he cut off the head, fashioning it into a mask of sorts. He would imitate the most perfect form he knew. His savior would notice him.

**Author's Note:**

> So, my theory for the Ink is that it's like a hivemind. It's a ton of people smashed together, all clambering to remember themselves. And Bendy is the leader, hence why Sammy thinks he can save them.


End file.
